


under your (love) spell

by cngkyns



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassins & Hitmen, Character Study, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Tragic Romance, Wizards, an enemy or stockholm syndrome typa thing, minhyuk is an assassin and jooheon is a hexblade, nvr thought i'd turn a fluffy mx ship into, whew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cngkyns/pseuds/cngkyns
Summary: In his eight years of being a hired killer, Minhyuk has never been defeated by his target during a mission, much less detained by and placed under a love spell by him.Five years after his clan's massacre, Jooheon hasn't come into contact with anyone else...until now.





	under your (love) spell

**Author's Note:**

> another fic originally written for the **cursed to love you** square for mx bingo. i actually rly liked how this turned out and i may write for this au/genre again bc it's super fun???? though i struggled w dialogue + worldbuilding a bit??? and joohyuk's characterisation here was also fun to write ahh. hope you'll enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing!!!   


"This isn't fair," a coarse voice whispers into the air, chin tilted upwards as Minhyuk stares at the morning sky, filled with birdsongs that echo against his walls and petrichor dancing in his nostrils, all of which speak, sing, and smell of freedom. It's a stark contrast from the dreary gray concrete walls that trap him in, the poor excuse of a fabric given to him as clothes, and the invisible force binding his hands together. Restlessness and uneasiness, heightened from his first few days being jailed in this lonesome room, courses through his body in an infinite loop, but nothing overwhelms the misplaced and unnatural affection he feels towards his captor. "This isn't fair at all." 

Metal rattling knocks Minhyuk out of his thoughts as his doorknob twists open, revealing a hexblade in loose, brown sleeping robes and messy platinum-blonde bed hair, contrasting the two sharp eyes that stare through him like glass. Even though he's placed under multiple curses by the hexblade, one of which limits Minhyuk's ability to move within three feet of him, Jooheon keeps a wary distance between himself and the man who was hired to kill him as he enters the room. 

And Minhyuk watches, flits his eyes at this handsome, charismatic presence with unknown intentions, wondering if it was too late to protect himself. 

"I see you're awake," says the mage, casting his sight over the failed assassin, a hint of a condescending smirk tugging on one side of his lips. "You must be so eager to start the day as my sweet, docile prisoner." 

As much as Minhyuk would love to spit insults into his face, the second curse that Jooheon had placed on him— to fall in love with me— prevents him from hurting the hexblade anymore than he has to. There's nothing else he can do when he's chained to the floor and his wrists are bounded by unbreakable magic, a power he was never trained to defeat. Instead, he steels his gaze with as much defiance as he could muster, answering with a tight, "And what about it?" 

"What a brave act you put on, considering you are nothing more but a ragdoll in my hands right now." Approaching him with slow, wary steps, making sure there's nothing near the assassin that could be thrown his way, Jooheon tilts his head up in a silent challenge. "Even the most vicious wolves are harmless when kept under chains."

Indifference hurts more than anger, so his prisoner seals his lips and averts his gaze. 

"I'm disappointed that this is the man they sent to kill me," says his captor, bending down to Minhyuk's eye level. "Quiet and submissive. Only here to look pretty, holding nothing more than the danger of a dog's bark." 

The assassin closes his eyes, curses that the man before him isn't dead like he'd been paid for. In his eight years of being a trained killer, Minhyuk had only let one other target live rather than killing him, and it was by his master's order as well as a handsome additional fee. Never had he lost a battle against his target: most of the time, the target wouldn't have sensed him before his poisoned knife brings them to their last breath. This turn of events— being caught sneaking into the hexblade's grounds at night, fighting one-on-one against both magic and melee, before being defeated and restrained against his will— was unforeseen, but Jooheon, who single-handedly carried his clan's name after the tragic massacre of his people, isn't a feared warrior-wizard for nothing. Minhyuk, on the other hand, studied the art of the blade and the shadows but none of magic, and he couldn't escape his wrath set by his target-turned-detainer. 

Amused at the lack of reactions, Jooheon breaks into a dry smile, one that doesn't graze the edges of his eyes but stretches far enough for his dimples to appear. "You should make the most out of your stay here, because we both know that no one is looking for you."

Those words dig a deep knife into Minhyuk's chest. It's a part of him he desperately keeps hidden from the world, a vulnerability he keeps close to himself because he doesn't want it to slip that he had once— had always— been unwanted and alienated and kept afar before he learnt the ways of the dagger. That he'd been nothing but a pathetic urchin at the bottom of the social food chain, ready to starve his life away on the streets, until a strange woman in loose robes led him to a secret inn full of killers and his life as an assassin began. Killing isn't an honourable way to make a living nor does it give him a meaningful purpose, but that's all Minhyuk has and he will cling onto it with dear life. 

It hurts to have the bandaid covering his past ripped off by a powerful stranger and his pain must be prominent on his face, because Jooheon's dry smile spreads even wider as if he'd won something. Maybe, in his eyes, he has. "Worry not," says the hexblade, sliding his hands into the loose folds of his robe. "Time passes slow and nice here. Age does not come fast. It's worth spending your prime youth in my hands. After all, I take pride in being an excellent host."

Minhyuk stares. Undeterred, Jooheon pats his knees and sighs. 

"You're not much of a talker, are you? Well then. Why don't we get to the point of this whole meeting: who do you work for?" 

This time, Minhyuk frowns. With the strain of invisible ropes tying his wrists and his inability to do anything outside of the hexblade's will, his energy to fight has dwindled down. A minute or two passes in the room. Birds continue their songs. The sun rises higher in the sky.

No answer.

"Still not answering, I see. Let me ask you again." The heavy silence is sliced by Jooheon's sharp tone. "Who do you work for?" 

When the assassin speaks up, his voice is still coarse and his words come out gruffer than intended. "Why do you want to know?" 

The hexblade squints. "Why does it matter? Answer me." 

"Whether or not I tell you, it won't make a difference." 

Jooheon tucks his chin inwards. "And how are you certain of yourself?" 

"With a man like you, where the entire nation is after your head and you have no one else to turn back to? I don't even need to question it."

A tinge of emotion irks behind the calm facade of Jooheon's eyes. A bold move that had been: mentioning any hints of the Lee Clan Massacre half a decade ago to the remaining clan member— Jooheon himself— caused suppressed despair and undirected fury to disclose itself. Visions of his family and clan members burning in their homes after being falsely accused of crimes. Iron weapons strong enough to deflect their magic attacks stabbing through the bodies of those he knew. The unbridled rage Jooheon experienced, all magic and battle strength churning inside him as he chased the murderers deep into the city, killing a quarter of the population by his own hands and breaking the fragile reputation his clan held. Before he could calm down and stop himself from pressing on, Jooheon challenges, "And what, pray tell, made you say that?" 

Oblivious to the inner turmoil he kicked within the wizard, Minhyuk stares straight into his eyes. "Everyone knows your story. Your name is still whispered from ear to ear, your reputation fierce, and your presence unwanted from any community," he says. "Meanwhile, I am no one but a silent killer unnoticed by most. My matters belong to me and me only; there's no reason for you to pry."

"And what does that have to do with my question?" Even so, Jooheon falters a little at his words, his steel-strength facade wavering into apprehension and anger. "I demand you to tell me whose name you work under."

"And what?" asks his prisoner. Sharp at detecting Jooheon's wavering confidence, Minhyuk presses on with, "Pursue them? Use me as a hostage to draw them out?" A scoff, a fake chuckle, shoulders deflating as he poses faux bravery against his formidable enemy. With his newfound courage and will to fight, Minhyuk adds, "Or will you rampage through yet another city, destroy another nation, and destroy the last of your clan— yourself— by your own hands?"

His head lurches forward then, oxygen forced out of his lungs by Jooheon's will and words bitten down by his tongue. The string of tension between them snaps as the hexblade stands up, towering over his prisoner, and raises a hand in the air before curling it into a first, choking Minhyuk's throat with an invisible force. 

Through restrained anger coming behind gritted teeth, Jooheon scowls, "Why, even under chains and curses, this dog still barks much more than it can bite. What an impressive little feat you have!" 

Struggling to form coherent sentences through the choke, Minhyuk manages to say, "Don't you...worry your pretty...little head. You won't...lay...a measly hand on me as I...won't on you." He gasps, inhaling as much air as he can, when Jooheon releases the hold on his throat. Coughs, sputters, body that was already weak from starvation now even weaker with the lack of oxygen in his chest. "Not when...you made me feel this way." He raises his eyes up, stares straight through Jooheon's own. 

Flustered at the turn of events, the hexblade blinks at him and releases the choke, causing his prisoner to double over and gasp for air. No words are exchanged for a moment, silent save for Minhyuk's sputtering and Jooheon's uneasy breathing, uncertain of where the conversation had gone— where did his authority go when it had been there moments before? 

In his own way of acknowledging defeat, Jooheon stands up and waves a hand, casting a spell to tighten the bounds on Minhyuk's wrist so the assassin winces in pain. Without another word, he crosses the distance from the prisoner to the door, unlatches it, and bangs it closed. 

Behind the closed door, however, Jooheon leans against the wood and raises a hand to his chest. His breaths are shorter than usual and a strange burning sensation covers every inch of his skin. Why was his heart beating fast, too? 

**Author's Note:**

> ***hexblade**: a warrior-warlock class from dnd. yes, dnd, bc i ran out of inspo and this [thread](https://www.therpgsite.com/showthread.php?27706-Magic-Using-Classes-Professions) suggested it nicely to me hehe. anyway, jooheon's profession is loosely based on the concept of a hexblade so it's not accurate or precise ;;   
hmu on [twt](https://twitter.com/raingami) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/raingami)!


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